They are all heroes
by Menoma-Minx
Summary: My unique take on Quinncest! Sorry people,still twisted,but no twist of lemon.Rated M for cursing and subject matter.  fang-readers'Week 46 1shot Theme:  "It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." –e.e. cummings


I don't think any more.

It needs doing, it needs doing, it gets done. Don't see anybody else. Even if I did, I'd still be the one doing it.

I don't see anyone anymore.

People are objects.

Claw meets upside of a person's head-let's have a couple's dance.

I don't think any more.

It needs doing, it needs doing, it gets done. Don't see anybody else. Even if I did, I'd still be the one doing it.

I don't see anyone anymore.

People are objects.

Claw meets upside of a person's head-let's have a couple's dance.

It's easy. Downright compatible are willing to knock off some of my debt for a squirt in a cup or a girl. Offer was made yesterday.

I didn't think I had any compromises left to make.

I love my mom.

I don't recognize the person my mom has become.

My mom loved me once; but even if she still knew who I was, she wouldn't want to recognize me.

I understand. I don't want to know me anymore either.

I never even considered the offer. I'm not considerate. I don't care. What needs doing, I do.

I'm going to die here. Die fighting, but die just the same.

I'm OK with that.

My deal keeps mom comfy snug as a nuthouse bug if I'm okay or not-so I'm OK with that.

The Vamps think it's the tiger blood that keeps me winning. Now, I'm not stupid enough to correct a vampire; but I am stupid enough to spite the hell out of them.

What they want to sell, I'm going to give away for free. It's just going to be one more part of me to let go of. I can do this.

I'm spiteful enough to do this. I'm strong.  
>They'll be strong too.<p>

Weretigers may never outnumber the Vamps. Hell,us Weretigers were probably always outnumbered by every single type of shifter out there.

Don't even have to number up the other supes-there's more of everybody.

When I'm all over; really and truly over, kealed over in the shape of a blood stain in the pits-that's when this begins.

The hero of the common gambler's greed agreed to become something more. I'm going to be more dead than I ever was alive.

20, 30 years from now, kids whose mothers faces I never met will meet with each other-have cubs of their own-I'm spiteful enough to care. These will be my heroes!

Nobody ever saves me.

With arrangements made, I don't wanna save me either. I just need to put on a good enough show to still be considered good enough for the final payout after I've checked out.

So kid, whoever the hell you turn out to be; don't be me.

Don't be scum.

Don't just be what needs doing. Do something!

Care about something-someone. Do it because I don't. You shouldn't need a reason; but I did, so maybe you do too.

Your brother,  
>John Quinn<p>

Frannie's head was spinning. She's supposed to be the family fuckedup was this?

That nice boy she just met was probably her nephew. Her brother: the stable, normal one-was all kinds of screwed up! He wrote this! He did this!

That clueless lug probably didn't remember doing it. Sure as hell didn't bother covering up his tracks.

Frannie had to pause again. She spent her entire life idolizing a lie-the ultimate liar:the kind that says I love you and tucks you in at night, the kind that tells you what you want to believe. Frannie didn't wanna believe anymore.

If she could shift, the room would be in tatters; but that wasn't an option.

She sure as hell didn't want to talk about it; and damn well not with him.

A dark place swallowed up the shadow she'd been living in. The light in her head was blinding and uncompromising. She was still Frannie, except now she knew it. She didn't know who that fuckedup faker brother of hers really was, except now it really didn't matter to who she was.

She'd text an official resignation in when she felt like now it just felt right leaving. Anyway, it's not like she had the option of resigning from her family tree-leaving the family company would have to do.

Frannie's stormed out the door with her mother's eyes upon her. Mama Quinn did all right by her kids: the sloppy one who couldn't be bothered to destroy the incriminating evidence beyond leaving it in an easily accessible trash bin and the clingy ner-do-well who was a constant reminder of helplessness personified-now they would both have to grow up and be the strong willed independent tigers they were meant to be.

Weretigers were loners. This pack mentality her family had descended into was extremely unhealthy mentally. It was time to become who they really were, even if it took a tiger mom to expedite them out the door. The most important thing was that they were finally going to leave her alone.

After what seemed like a lifetime of waiting, she finally had the courage to cut the cubs lose. Next time the guards came around, she'd show them who she really was; and what that person can do.

She wondered if people tasted the same as she remembered, and then discovered that she didn't care. Just so long as she got to eat somebody, or maybe several somebodies-that would do her what a world of healing quacks couldn't. She felt good. She felt whole. She felt complete.


End file.
